


Embrace

by daphnerunning



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: M/M, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuri hears his voice fall flat into the empty room, but that doesn't mean icy fingers aren't running up his spine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace

_Yuri._

A heartbeat, quicker than it was a moment ago, thuds in the silence of the room. Yuri shifts.

 _Yuri. You’re hurt._

“It’s nothing.” Yuri hates that he speaks aloud, the way the words fall flat into the empty room.

He feels the nudge of cold fingers at his shoulder, and hisses in pain. “Stop.”

 _Let me._

Yuri unbuttons his shirt, lets it slip from his shoulders. The wound still gapes under the bandage that he applied, clumsy with only one available hand. 

 _You’re wounded. Wounded in the service of Justice._

There is approval in that clear, ringing whisper. Yuri’s eyes slide closed and he leans back against his high-backed chair. The touch returns, numbing away the pain into empty cold.

The touch feels so good he can’t help but sigh, and regrets it. His ears are sensitive, immediately pick up the lack of rebounding waves from directly in front of him, and he knows he’s alone.

 _Keep your eyes closed._

“I—“

 _Yuri._ The tone shifts to gentle mockery. _Hear the voice of—_

“Yes, Lord.” Like a good servant, Yuri obeys. He feels his hands move to his own hair, untying the ribbon, fastening it over his eyes. 

Those cold fingertips touch his eyelids, making them flutter. They brush over his lips, darting away when he tries to flick over them with his tongue. They trace his jawline, up to his ear, then down the side of his neck. They press briefly against the pulse of his carotid artery, then in a straight line down his chest.

Yuri’s sure he doesn’t deserve this, not when he’s failed to bring a single criminal to justice today.

 _It is honor to reward loyalty. You serve me in good faith. Allow me to serve you the same._

It’s his own hands that unbutton his pants, slide them off at a whispered order that echoes in his mind. 

The first time, he thought he was insane.

 _You thought you were mad. Tell me, Yuri. Have you decided I’m real, or simply embraced your madness?_

Strong arms like chilled glass encircle Yuri’s chest, holding him, pressing him to a man’s smooth chest, stroking his hair. The fingers in his hair go straight from scalp to tip, never even pausing at the blindfold. Similarly, the arms go right around him, even through the chair.

At the same time, an arctic breath traces over his cock, coaxing him to full attention. 

It felt odd, foreign, the first time. But he obeyed in the end. He was a good servant.

He feels cradled, wanted, valued.

He’s so hard it aches.

Fingernails like chips of ice pinch his nipples, and he sucks in a harsh breath. “My Lord--”

 _With me, now._

Yuri moves his hand to his cock, starts stroking fast and rough for a second before a cold hand closes over his, steadying the pace. He flinches at that touch, more because he likes it when there’s pain, likes it when it’s too rough and hurts a little, but the smooth touch on his hand won’t let him have the pain.

 _You can have pain. I just won’t let you give it to yourself._

Yuri’s hips buck against the touch, an undignified noise coming out of his throat. He feels the pain now, white-cold pinpricks of sensation against his scalp, his lips, his neck, his nipples, his cock, until he’s a writhing mass of sensation. “May I--”

 _You are being rewarded. You may finish whenever you please._

Yuri doesn’t want that, wants to be told what to do, told how to behave, told how to make it right. He squirms, hips moving hard and fast enough that the chair legs bump against the floor, squeezing himself a little too hard. 

And then, as he always does, he gives himself up to it. 

He embraces the madness. 

His eyes flash open, burning the ribbon to ash in a matter of milliseconds. For a heartbeat, he can see the presence touching him, surrounding him. A creature of ice and flame and shadow, eyes aglow like Yuri’s with the same vengeful desires. He burns so bright, Yuri’s Lord and Master, that he burns everything--the rage, the fear, the constant ache of longing for things _gone_ \--to ash in his gaze.

Yuri arches his back and cries out, tears streaming down his face, hot from his eyes, freezing before they can reach his lips, and he collapses into deep, shuddering breaths. Before his blood stops singing, he drags himself to the bed to wait out the final, glorious tremors of ecstasy.

They fade.

He lies still, conscious of the echoes of his breath in the emptiness of his room. The sweat cools on the back of his neck.

 _Do you feel the pain in your shoulder now, Yuri?_

“No, Lord Thanatos.”

He doesn’t feel anything at all.


End file.
